Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 64(@200wpm)___ 51(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 64(@200wpm)___ 51(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
“When is he supposed to get here?” Franny, my older sister, asked.
I looked out my kitchen window. The sun was setting, the winter hours making it dark before it even hit six in the evening.
“He’ll be here any minute. Although, that snowstorm is supposed to hit before eight.” I glanced over at my sister who was helping my mom finish cooking dinner.
I invited everyone over to my place for supper, but I’d been not-so-subtlety kicked out of the kitchen because of my lack of cooking skills.
I got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge, sneakily picking at the charcuterie board Franny created. She slapped my hand when I reached for another grape.
“Ouch, you bitch,” I teased and shook my hand to ease the sting of her swat.
It had been about a year since we all saw Oli together, so when he said he’d be in town tonight after his trip to Greece, everyone dropped what they were doing and made time for a visit.
“Dad!” Franny called out.
I heard my father groan before the sound of his footsteps came closer, and he entered the kitchen.
“The storm is supposed to hit by eight. I plan on leaving by then unless you and Mom want to see if Sasha can give you a ride home?”
Our mom and dad looked at me then Franny. They’d ridden with her.
I shrugged. “I can take you home if you want to visit longer.”
Dad shook his head, walked over to Mom, and wrapped his arms around her before kissing the side of her neck. “We’ll go with your sister, Sasha. I don’t want you driving in this shit weather.”
“Oh, but I can?” Franny tease-whined.
“You live a few houses down from us, honey,” Mom said. “You can park in our driveway and walk to your place.
Franny snorted but just shook her head.
My mom chuckled and started gathering the dinnerware to set the table, but all she found were my four chipped plates I’d gotten at a garage sale and a stack of paper ones. She glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow. “Really, honey?”
“It’s usually just me here, and I hate doing dishes. You’ll find the exquisite sterling silverware in there.” I pointed and was grinning when she opened the drawer and sighed, grabbing the plastic forks and knives and shaking her head.
“How the hell are we supposed to eat chicken primavera with this shit?” Franny asked. “It’s gonna break, and we’ll be forced to choke down pieces of plastic.”
I rolled my eyes. “Drama queen. It’ll be fine.”
The flash of headlights drew my attention out the kitchen window, and I saw a car coming up the driveway. “He’s here!” I called out and tipped my beer back, swallowing a hoppy mouthful.
I found my smile instantly form as I went to the front door and pulled it open. I heard his car shut off, then the smooth noise of his door closing. The snow started falling, and I tipped my head back and looked up, seeing the flakes were starting to fall rapidly.
The crunch-crunch of his feet on the ground as he came closer had me glancing in his direction just as he rounded the corner.
Seeing Oli was like a warm hug or a thick blanket on a chilly day. He was family, familiar, and I loved having him and everyone over because it felt like the most comfortable thing in the world.
A second later, he had me in a big bear hug before I could even take a breath or say a word. I sank against him and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He gave me a kiss on the top of my head.
I pulled back and smiled at him. Oli was big at six-foot-three. And he was strong, with short salt-and-pepper hair, a square jaw, and sharp, masculine features. He certainty didn’t look fifty-seven years old.
“Even better now that you’re here,” I replied, giving him one more squeeze and melting a little as his giant hand rubbed my back to warm me up when I shivered.
We headed in, and as soon as I shut the front door, the rest of the family advanced on him. He gave Franny and my mom a big hug and a kiss on top of their heads, and then there was my dad, who he slapped on the back and gave one of those half-hugs manly men did.
The rest of the evening went fairly fast with dinner being served and everyone asking Oli twenty questions each on his latest travels. No one spoke about my grandmother, but then again, it wasn’t as if we had much to say. I certainty hadn’t heard from her, and my father, her own son, hadn’t spoken to her in almost a year.
“Dessert anyone?” my mom asked as she finished clearing off the table, refusing to allow anyone to help—not even me, in my own house. “I brought a coffee cake.”